


pink and blue

by sodajineundwaekki



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Emotions, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Slice of Life (ish), Slumps, and hyunjin isn't very far behind, its pretty short and sweet, jisungs kind of slumped, mentions of mental health, minho is quite literally the human equivalent of an angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:26:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27467158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodajineundwaekki/pseuds/sodajineundwaekki
Summary: It had certainly been a day, though the level of which "good" could be used to describe it wavered unhappily on Jisung's mind.Three times he'd been called aside from his classes, three out of five professors who'd asked him whether he was feeling alright, if he was okay, if he needed someone to talk to. He wished, almost, that he could find it somewhere in him to be embarrassed, and yet all he could do was nod and offer a polite smile, quip that he was just tired today.orin which minho comes in for him on the days jisung finds it hard to come out.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Hwang Hyunjin, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 7
Kudos: 132





	pink and blue

The Friday evening that led Jisung back to his apartment on heavy feet was a dim one, to say the least. 

It had certainly been a day, though the level of which "good" could be used to describe it wavered unhappily on Jisung's mind. Three times he'd been called aside from his classes, three out of five professors who'd asked him whether he was feeling alright, if he was okay, if he needed someone to talk to. He wished, almost, that he could find it somewhere in him to be embarrassed, and yet all he could do was nod and offer a polite smile, quip that he was just tired today. 

The sky was clouding over as he walked, angry gray clouds quivering with the warning of oncoming rain. Jisung knew it, he'd checked the forecast, and yet he still couldn't dish it out in him to walk any faster. His legs felt like they might collapse if he tried to run, and he was worried his lungs might completely give out if he tried to breathe in air too quickly. 

He did manage, however, to beat the storm as he made his way into his apartment. Thunder crackled, but rain was yet to fall, and it was a small glimmer of pink in a day that had been so utterly blue. 

"Hiya, Sungie!" 

Jisung didn't bother to look up from where he took off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door. He knew he'd regret it later when time came to begin his work and he'd have to venture through the kitchen to retrieve it, but he didn't really care right now. 

"Hi, Hyunjin," Jisung answered, eyes trained down on the laces he was still untying. His fingers felt stiff and so he worked at the knot a little clumsily until it finally fell loose and he kicked off his shoe.

When he finally did look up from the floor, he realized Hyunjin was looking at him a little curiously, head tilted to the side like an inquisitive puppy and pupils big in widened eyes. 

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Jisung said flatly, raising an eyebrow and patting Hyunjin's cheek gently as he passed into the kitchen. Truthfully, he didn't really have much of an idea of what he was going to do in there, but it seemed like the right place to go. 

Another clap of thunder echoed through the apartment and Jisung glanced out the window as the sky darkened further. 

"Class finished late?" Hyunjin stepped into the kitchen as well, coming up behind Jisung as he was looking outside. 

"Yep," Jisung answered, turning around so he was facing Hyunjin. He wondered if it was evident in his voices just how exhausted he felt, because Hyunjin's face seemed to fall a little at his answer. He couldn't really think of any other way he was meant to respond. 

It was later than he'd usually be home on a Friday, though it had only partly been because of his art professor keeping them back a few minutes. Jisung's walk had felt exceptionally long and he figured it might have had something to do with the fact that he walked slower than he'd meant to. 

Jisung eventually walked over to the electric kettle Hyunjin had splurged on at one point and flicked it on to heat whatever water was left in it from the last time someone had made coffee. He took a seat on one of the chairs in the room while he waited--he'd usually be making conversation, but his tongue felt a little too heavy to roll words off like it usually would and it felt like his mind was spurring a little slower than he could process. 

"So, guess what happened during my lit class today?" Hyunjin perched up on the counter and shot Jisung a smile that meant he was going to tell him whether he answered or not. 

Bingo, because Jisung didn't even have time to respond before Hyunjin was going on to retell his adventure. 

"So there's this one girl who sits a few rows ahead of me, and she usually doesn't--" 

Jisung felt bad, he truly did, but he couldn't help but zone out. Hyunjin's stories usually were enrapturing and managed to have him in uncontrollable teary laughter every once in a while, but something was wrong with today. Or maybe something was wrong with Jisung today. Honestly, he couldn't tell. It was somewhere between the two. 

"Sung?" 

Jisung only snapped out of his reverie when Hyunjin's voice pierced through his thoughts.

"What?" Jisung blinked quickly before realizing Hyunjin had probably finished talking and was expecting a response. "Oh--shit, sorry, I--" 

"Everything okay, Jisung?" 

Hyunjin hopped off the counter and walked toward Jisung, a new expression on his face that Jisung found hard to decipher. It seemed to waver between a quirked eyebrow and a downturn of the left corner of his mouth, a combination that generally made for an amusing expression and now just came off as distressed in some way. 

"Yeah," Jisung responded finally, scrubbing his right hand down his face. "I'm fine, don't worry, I'm just--I'm just tired." 

Again, it wasn't a lie. It might not have been a whole truth, but Jisung had found out that giving a piece of reality generally worked better than white lies. 

The click of the kettle was what pulled Jisung out of his chair and back into the kitchen, his mind a little further than the type of tea he was going to drink. Honestly, he just pulled a random box out of the cupboard that was nearly empty and shook one of the bags into his hand. 

He never got to put it in his mug, because Hyunjin's palm closed over it before he could undo the stapled area. Jisung looked up questioningly and Hyunjin offered him a soft smile, putting it back in the box and reaching for another one. 

"It's medicinal honey," he explained as he brought down another box. "You're not gonna like it. Have this one." 

Jisung barely ever drank tea if he could help it. It was far too light for him, too much flavor and not enough kick. But still, every once in a while, tea seemed like the right remedy for whatever he was feeling, and this was one of those days. 

"Here," Hyunjin took the tea bag out of his frozen palm once more. "I'll make it. Go take a shower and change, yeah?" 

Jisung froze, and then he blinked and nodded briefly before backing away, letting Hyunjin take his spot at the counter. He was halfway across the kitchen before Hyunjin spoke again. 

"Oh, Sungie," Hyunjin called, and Jisung turned. 

"I don't know if you remember, but we planned a movie night with everyone tonight," Hyunjin said, splaying out a hand in what was probably unconscious manner. 

He didn't say anything else, but the unspoken question on his lips hung heavily in the air between the two of them. Jisung stood, and then he weighed his options for a moment. He could go. He could force himself to shower quickly and change into presentable clothes. He could tell Hyunjin to quit the tea and give him fifteen minutes to get ready so they can leave together. He could walk there huddled under an umbrella with Hyunjin and let himself be shoved on a couch between two people, let himself be teased for silly things as some stupid movie played in the background. 

He could do all that. 

He could, but Jisung realized, as he thought, that the idea itself made him queasy. That the thought of doing all that made a twisting sort of nausea claw up in the pits of his stomach, and he realized that he didn't think he _could_ do that. 

Hyunjin seemed to know the answer already, but Jisung said it aloud anyways. Perhaps for closure, or perhaps to make that guilt in the back of his mind fall a little bit further down and wrap its ugly tentacles around him. He didn't know, but he said it anyways. 

"I, uh," Jisung bit his lip and pulled one sleeve of his shirt down over his hand. "I don't think I'm up for it today, Hyunjin."

Hyunjin nodded and smiled at Jisung, and he didn't know if it was relieving or crushing that Hyunjin didn't look disappointed. 

"That's completely fine," Hyunjin said, and his tone was so firm that Jisung almost felt thankful that it was there. "Shower and come back, yeah?" 

Jisung nodded bluntly and disappeared off down the hallway. He took random clothes from his drawers--a sweatshirt, a pair of sweatpants--grabbed a towel, and took what might have been the quickest shower of his life. For some reason, the hot water didn't bring him any relief like he wished it would've. 

And when he returned to the kitchen, Hyunjin was waiting, a cup of steaming tea on the counter in front of him and his arms crossed lightly on the table. He perked up when Jisung entered the kitchen and pushed the mug towards him, same small smile flitting across his lips. Jisung really hoped it wasn't a pitying smile. 

Hyunjin opened his mouth, and Jisung's tongue was doing work for him before he really got to process what it was saying. 

"Go on, you'll be late," Jisung smiled lightly at Hyunjin and reached for the mug. "Have fun." 

Hyunjin seemed like he was going to protest, but he didn't. Perhaps something in Jisung's expression convinced him not to. Instead, he got up and strode towards Jisung, pulling him into a sturdy hug. He pulled away quickly and pressed a soft kiss to Jisung's cheek before he backed away. 

Hyunjin never pampered, or asked too many questions, or insisted on anything that Jisung had already said no to. He had this creepy superpower of knowing when Jisung meant what he said and when he didn't, and even when he was tempted to argue with him he never did. Jisung was so thankful for that that he almost couldn't believe it sometimes. Today was one of those days where his words meant exactly what he felt, and so he had no bitterness when he watched Hyunjin pull an umbrella from the closet, shrug on a jacket, and leave with a final smile and a wave. 

The second the door closed behind him, it started to rain. 

It was almost amusingly unlucky in Hyunjin's favor, but Jisung only really watched the sheets of water pour from the sky for a few seconds before he turned away from the window and walked into his room. And then he did exactly what his body felt like doing. 

He put the mug of tea on his bedside table, climbed into his bed, and disappeared under the blanket. He was just tired, maybe, but he was tired in a way that dragged so deep in his bones that he felt like they might actually give out. It wasn't often that melancholy colored his mood but every once in a while it did, and so he learned to succumb and get through it rather than fight so hard to be bright yellow again. 

Jisung had learned that letting the storm rain down every once in a while was better than constant showers over his head. 

The room was dark enough without the curtains pulled, so Jisung watched the rain as it fell. The ache that had begun to echo in his temples flared as he did but he couldn't bother to do anything to fix it, just sighed and pulled his knees up to his chest. 

He was tired, and the number of assignments he had open ran through his brain like Google tabs yet to be closed. He thought of them and grew grayer, and pulled into himself more. He felt guilty, he did, for leaving his friends hanging once again. It had happened two weeks ago, and a week before that, but his chest really did feel too tight to be among so many people despite how much he loved them. 

He wondered if that made him a bad friend, if they'd eventually get sick of the 'sorry, I can't make it' excuses, if at some point he'd stop being asked altogether.

Because as much as he'd learned to let it storm, he hadn't learned to keep it from taking over too often. And as it took over time and time again, Jisung fell prison to his bed time and time again, staring blankly at the spider weaving a web in the corner of the wall or once again at the raindrops sliding too quickly down the glass. The ache in his head spread to his chest and his limbs and he rolled over every time it felt like his heart would be crushed, terrified that it would yet too weary to really abide. 

Jisung tangled himself in his blanket like his thoughts tangled in his brain, curled into himself like the nausea curled in his stomach, crushed his arms around his torso like his ribcage crushed his lungs. 

Time warped, and he had no idea just how long he was there before a sound other the heavy pattering of the rain rang through his apartment. It was the first he'd heard since the whistling of the kettle and Hyunjin wishing him goodbye. A key turned, the door creaked open, and the sound of someone walking through the hallways a few minutes later. 

Jisung wondered. 

Hyunjin?

Perhaps. Maybe he'd been here so long that it was well into the night and Hyunjin had returned. Maybe he'd take a shower and come collapse into the bed opposite Jisung's. 

But he didn't. Because it wasn't Hyunjin. Funnily enough, even through his muddled brain, Jisung knew Hyunjin better than the back of his hand and he knew what he'd do. It wasn't Hyunjin--no, the person currently standing in his doorway had a shadow that didn't quite reach the bed, jingled earrings in a way that Hyunjin's studs never did, glinted gold in the light when Hyunjin glinted silver. 

Maybe he should've been scared, but he wasn't. He couldn't find it in himself to be. 

The person moved forward, and then all of a sudden Jisung's bed dipped under new weight, the edge of his blanket was lifted and untucked from beneath him, and a new presence slid into his bed with him. Warm, sturdy arms snaked around his waist and a soft chin thumped on his shoulder, cold feet brushing his ankles and a smooth, silky shirt draping over his shoulders. 

"Jisungie?" 

Minho. 

Jisung tensed. Shouldn't Minho have been at the movie night? He was sure Hyunjin's "everyone" had included eight people--meaning Minho as well. If it had ended Hyunjin would've returned as well. 

"Hi," Jisung said finally, and it seemed like the rain pounded harder against the window pane. The sound of the rain was what had him registering the fact that Minho was _wet_ \--it was just now that he realized Minho was pressing damply against his sweatshirt and his hair was dripping. "You're wet." 

Jisung felt Minho's chest vibrate when he laughed. 

"Yeah, I noticed," Minho answered, pulling back slightly. Wet as he may have been, his body heat left with him and the damp spots on Jisung's sweatshirt suddenly felt so much colder. "Turns out the whole 'running between raindrops' thing is a myth." 

His voice had an amused lilt to it, but for some reason it did nothing to ease the tension in Jisung's chest. 

For the first time in a while he turned, shifting to look at where Minho had pulled himself into a sitting position next to Jisung. He was nearly soaked, his shirt managing to be dry in about four places and his hair still dripping the occasional raindrop. Jisung searched his face for any hint of disappointment, confusion, displeasure--but all he was met with was an upward curve of the corners of his lips and eyes curled up into soft crescents. 

"Why aren't you with everyone else?" Jisung asked finally. It was true, he'd thought of phrasing that question fourteen different ways before he finally managed to ask it. 

Minho tilted his head slightly and reached out to poke Jisung's cheek softly. 

"Because I don't like it when you're sad," Minho said finally. "And I missed my cuddle buddy." 

There were too many unspoken words in his response, but Jisung felt his heart pang painfully against the metal of his chest anyways. 

"I'm gonna steal some of your clothes and change, okay?" Minho offered him one last smile before he hopped off the bed to rummage through Jisung's dresser. He stepped out of the room, leaving the door open as he did, and a beam of yellow hallway light spilled onto the dark bedroom floor. 

Running between raindrops. 

That meant Minho had walked all the way from Seungmin and Felix's apartment to his and Hyunjin's, through the storm. It also meant that Minho had left the movie night in favor of coming to Jisung's apartment--it meant that he'd ditched everyone else to come find Jisung. 

If Jisung had felt guilty before, he was positively sure that his chest would simply collapse into itself with just how guilty he was now. Perhaps he shouldn't have been, considering it had been Minho's and only Minho's decision to do so, but it still left a sharp pain shooting under his skin. If he'd just managed to go, just managed to leave his stupid bed and go to the movie night, he could've avoided it. 

Jisung bit his lip and dropped his head so his chin touched his chest, drew his knees up to his chest and clasped his arms around them. 

The rain fell, fell, and fell harder, and Jisung's heart pounded, pounded, and pounded harder. 

"Ji?" 

Jisung glanced up when Minho reappeared in his doorway, jeans and shirt discarded over his shoulder and one of Jisung's too-big sweatshirts now fitted over his frame. His hair was still wet but he'd clearly tried to dry it, because it now mostly looked like he'd just taken a shower. 

"I'm gonna order takeout, Sungie," Minho walked through the room and sat down next to him on the edge of the bed. "Any preferences?" 

Jisung managed to shake his head. His throat felt too dry to respond. 

"Chinese it is," Minho quipped, scrolling through a delivery service he'd already had open. Jisung had a sinking feeling that he'd have ordered Chinese whether Jisung had answered or not. 

Thunder crackled across the sky once more and was followed by a brief spasm of lightning that just barely illuminated the room for a few seconds. Jisung hadn't noticed himself flinching, but apparently Minho did, because he glanced up almost immediately. 

"Wanna go sit in the living room?" Minho offered then. 

It wasn't said aloud, but the darkness of the room clearly wasn't ideal. Truthfully, Jisung was in no mood to leave from the confines of his bed, but reproachfulness outweighed exhaustion. And so he nodded and slowly moved one of the edges of the blankets so he could untangle his legs, and Minho was hopping over to help him instantly. He helped Jisung up from the bed, one hand behind his back and the other supporting his shoulder. He also picked up the tea that had long since gone cold from the nightstand before making his way across the room.

"Jeongin missed you today," Minho said as he got comfortable next to Jisung on the couch he'd just deposited him on. "It was kind of scary, honestly." 

Jisung pulled a small smile. It was, to some extent, strange to picture the younger boy actually expressing his emotions for someone. It wasn't often that it happened, and yet again as much as it was a gesture that probably meant well, it added to the sick feeling in his stomach. 

"I'm sorry," Jisung managed after a few seconds of silence, giving Minho a half-smile. "I didn't--I wanted to--"

"Hey," Minho interrupted him gently, reaching over to tilt his chin up with one finger. "None of this is your fault, you hear me? You did nothing wrong, and if you apologize I might have to sock you and _neither_ of us is going to like that." 

Jisung let out a bated exhale and pulled his knees up, resting his chin on them tiredly. He was tired, still tired, but it was a kind of tired he wasn't sure sleep would fix. He got like this sometimes, a little too gray to be human, to feel, and it _sucked_. 

The doorbell rang, and Minho hopped off the couch to retrieve the food from the doorstep. He was back seconds later with a plastic bag in one hand and a bottle of Coke Zero in the other. 

"Look, Sungie," Minho's voice convinced Jisung to look up at Minho's face. "I don't know why you're sad, and I don't know how to make it better, either. I do know, though, that you like hugs, and Chinese food, and Chicken Little. And maybe stupid animated movies and my stupid face isn't going to fix you, but I'm gonna do my damn best to make it try." 

And for the first time all day, a genuine laugh bubbled up out of Jisung's throat. A tiny, tiny flame broke out in his chest and started to wear away at the ice, and maybe it was too small to get very far but for a minute, he felt like he'd be able to breathe again. 

"The rain," Jisung shook his head in disbelief and glanced up at Minho again. "You walked through rain to come here--" 

"I ran, actually," Minho grinned at Jisung and put the boxes of food down on the table. "And I don't regret it one bit." 

The rain didn't stop, and the heavy heart didn't stop, and the burning behind his eyes didn't stop, but Minho made it better when he talked about how he'd tripped and fallen in a mud puddle earlier in the day. He made it better when he took lo mein out of the box and put it on a plate and handed it to Jisung. He made it better when he found Chicken Little in the array of stupid animated movies on the TV. He made it better when he wrapped an arm around Jisung's shoulders and pulled him to his chest. 

Minho made it better. 

And Minho wasn't magic. He couldn't wave a wand and take away the heaviness in his chest. But he was warm and solid and _there_ , and Jisung didn't think he wanted anything else in that moment. 

Bonus: 

"Does Jisung-hyung not wanna hang out with us?" Jeongin asked, eyes wide and mouth downturned slightly.

Hyunjin bit his lip and sighed as he sat down heavily on the couch with six pairs of eyes all focused on him. 

"It's not that, Innie," Hyunjin said finally. "Jisung's just been a little bit...down lately." 

It was an understatement, to say the least. Hyunjin hadn't noticed it, but Jisung must've been falling into his slump for days now. He hadn't realized that the clothes piled up in his room, the pile of growing water bottles by his dresser, the things on his desk scattering to the point that the wood had disappeared had been signs. 

And some days it took more out of Jisung than he cared to admit to even leave his bed let alone hang out with eight people, even if he held them dear to his heart. 

Jeongin's mouth seemed to turn down further. 

"You left him alone?" Minho was staring at Hyunjin with an unreadable expression on his face. 

Hyunjin took a deep breath. 

"He wanted me to," Hyunjin said, and he was sure of it. "It would've been worse if I'd stayed." 

Minho stood up, then, glanced out the window, and reached for his jacket. 

"What are you doing?" Hyunjin called after him. 

"I'm not you!" Minho yelled back, and then the door thumped shut behind him. 

"Is he crazy?" Changbin was staring out the window as Minho sprinted off through the rain. "He'll get hypothermia or something." 

Hyunjin couldn't hold back the laugh that climbed its way out of his chest. 

"It's Jisung," Hyunjin shrugged. "He'd jump into a volcano for him." 

No one argued any further. 

**Author's Note:**

> hello!  
> if you read until here you have incredible mental stamina :D
> 
> kudos and comment if you liked it! ;)


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